Chapter 3

About the time that the emerging Roman Republic had backstabbed the Celts and the Celts were on their way to Rome to demonstrate to the Romans that in the history of bad ideas, backstabbing your Celtic allies was in the top ten, there lived, in a small fishing village off the Northwestern Coast of Modern day Ireland, a wizard by the name of Quinn. Actually, he had a longer name than that, but being an easy going type of wizard, he preferred being called Quinn. Now, being a fairly powerful type of wizard who had survived the destruction of Atlantis, the local druids, bards, nobleman, fisherman, warriors and everyone else were very keen on keeping the Mighty Quinn an easy going kind of wizard, and so were willing to call Quinn anything Quinn wanted to be called. Quinn had even taught the local bards a song to play every time he walked into the local tavern:

"Come on out,

come on in,

you've not seen nothing like the Mighty Quinn.

Come on out,

Come on in.

When Quinn the Atlantean gets here,

Everybody's going to jump for joy."

Predictably, when Quinn the basically easy going wizard got there, everyone jumped for joy. When it was that easy to keep an easy going wizard easy going, you didn't cut corners.

As Wizards went, Quinn was all right. He kept the barbarians at bay, the local bay full of fish, and the local forest full of game. True, he took a local virgin for dalliance once every two or three years, but always returned them unharmed and with a pouch of gold to boot. Which was leagues better than what the local nobles did when they went dallying. All in all, if you had to have a wizard in the neighborhood, you could do a lot worse than the self-professed easy going Mighty Quinn. There was just one thing you did not mess with that belonged to Quinn. His true love. His great passion.

His Garden.

Now, as you can imagine, Quinn, being a wizard, could have populated his garden with the most exotic flora known to mankind.